I Needed To Tell You
by startswithgoodbye9412
Summary: Beca is completely over all of the turmoil that she deals with in her life. Will Chloe be able to tell her how she really feels? Trigger Warning.


It started off as a slight doubtfulness in the back of my mind. The kind when I kept telling myself that I couldn't do something I knew that I hadn't even tried. The kind where every outfit I tried on didn't look good on me. The kind when I realized that I needed to lose weight. The kind when I realized that all of my friends hated me.

It didn't end there. It began to turn into slight self-hatred when I realized that everything I did was wrong. It was when I realized that no matter how hard I tried something was always wrong. It was letting me know that every fight my parents had was my fault. It was letting me know that in the end, I was better off dead. I didn't actively try to kill myself then. I just knew that if it happened, I wouldn't necessarily care. It was when I realized that none of my friends cared enough to ask me why I never went swimming with them. It was when I realized that there was something I could do to hurt myself and something else that I could control my weight with.

The next step was when my life went completely haywire. I developed complete self-loathing. I didn't care whether or not the sweats I was wearing had stains on them or if I wore them the day before. I didn't care whether or not I succeeded on a test. I didn't even care if I got dropped from missing too many classes. I quit the Bellas right after Semi-Finals when Aubrey told me exactly who I was. It wasn't like I was trying to change everything; it was just that I was finally feeling somewhat okay with who I was so I figured why not? Of course, the moment that I made us lose, the thoughts and urges came spirally back harder that they were the day before. I ran straight into the bathroom off the competition and downed the last seven laxatives that I had. I smiled crookedly to myself and ran back out to the street of the competition.

I walked into my dorm and sat on the bed. I realized that losing a spot at finals was most likely my fault, but I couldn't understand why none of the girls defended me. That's right, they all hated me anyway. I picked up the small first aid kit from my nightstand drawer. It was kind of ironic how all the tools that I used to hurt myself were in a case that was supposed to make me feel better. When I first began this habit, addiction really, I had tried to keep myself infection free. Of course, that was before I decided that I didn't really care if I got an infection. It just meant that I was due for more pain for something I did. It was punishment for not hurting myself enough.

I fiddled with the razor between my two fingers. In all honesty, the razor was the only thing I could count on. It was the only thing that allowed me to share my pain. It never cared if I carelessly threw it on the floor because I was too weak to put it away after it helped me. It didn't care that I kept it hidden from the rest of the world.

I figured that ultimately it was now or never. I put the razor down and scribbled a shot letter explaining what happened to me and saying not to come in to see me. Just in case someone noticed that I was missing and decided that I might actually be worth looking for. Of course, I knew that it was a farfetched idea, but I figured that the person in charge of my financial aid would come barging in at the fact of the amount of classes that I missed.

I placed the note on the door. I figured that no one would want to see me after I've been here for days just lying there. I'm sure I wouldn't smell that great either. After I pinned the note to the door I walked back over to my unmade bed. I laughed at the thought of my mother yelling at me every day to make my bed. It seemed so trivial to me to make a bed that I was just going to sleep in the very next night. I laughed at the thought of her trying to coax me with anything and everything to keep my room clean for when she had her business parties. I didn't understand why I had to keep my room clean when I could easily shut my door, it wasn't like she had her parties in my room anyway.

I sat down on the bed and shut my eyes tightly while I tried to calm myself. I didn't want to back out of this, but my heart raced at the thought of failing. I mean, there was a chance that it would.

After a few seconds, I reopened my eyes. I grabbed the razor and began to trail it heavily down my arm. I quickly followed suit with the other arm and then started to randomly slice other parts of my arms and legs. I sighed out in pain when it finally caught up to me. I knew that it would hurt, just not this much. I lay down against my bed and closed my eyes as I waited for the darkness to take me over completely.

In every movie, they make it seem so painless and so quick. It wasn't at all. It was agonizing as I was still. I scrunched my nose slightly as the noise the door made when it opened and closed quickly.

"Now, Beca, before you say anything, please just hear me out. I love you, okay. I mean I'm absolutely in love with you. Don't ask me how or why because I honestly have no idea. But I do, okay? I'm so sorry about what all Aubrey said to you. I'm sorry for not sticking up for you, but my brain and heart didn't get caught up until now. So, feel free to come in at any time…" She trailed off. I know there was no way she noticed me bleeding out for the world to see.

"I love you, too, Chloe."

I'm sorry about the way this one ended. I just wanted to write this, and this is how it came out.

Oh, and for any of you that have been reading my other Pitch Perfect Story, I've Given Up, I just wanted to let you know that I am not going to finish it. There isn't much feedback, so I just assume no one likes it and there isn't a point to finish a crappy story.

Well tell me how you like this! Reviews are welcome and appreciated!


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